letting go
by neverlanding rapunzel
Summary: ...because he's farkle, and farkle can't die - mentions of lucaya and riarkle. slight riley/zay
1. riley (before)

author's note: _lucas and zay are about seventeen; maya and farkle are sixteen; riley is on the back-end of being fifteen. mentions of lucaya, riarkle and riley/zay._

 **letting go**

/

i: riley (before)

You trail your fingertips down the glass of the window pane, staring off into him – his face, very much bruised, scratches tracing around his cheekbones. Him; _god_ , it pains you to look at him so broken, so _literally_ crushed to his lowest point. Your hand reaches the handle, and you close your eyes. Your tongue is between your lips. You hate to think how much worse he might look when you're there: staring into his face, right there in front of you, without glass separating you. You know you'll cry. You _know_ you will. You push the door slowly, refusing to lay your eyes on his resting form.

You take a sharp intake of air, and you finally open your eyes to gaze down at him. _A coma_ , they said. _It might take months, maybe years_ , they said. The very thought of him here, year after year, taking in the breaths of an oxygen tank rather than exploring the world while he can: you had made plans. Plans that might never get lived; to be stuffed in a sock drawer only to be admired by you in times of absolute dread.

There are presents, they have been left for him. Piles of cards and chocolates all gathered on a chair in the left-hand corner of the room. You pull up a seat from the right, closer to the bed. You inch closer to him; you're practically breathing down his neck. Words to speak – to say _– to him_ , they swirl the surface of your mind. So many words, to say to the boy who has changed so much, and yet, is still _soso_ similar. He's more of a man now. The leather jacket he had been wearing during the incident was slung over the same chair as all the presents. Your hands reach his, interlocking. Your emotions fill the words that leave your lips.

"Farkle," you say. Your voice is a bare whisper, one that could only be heard by the keen ear. "I want you to know that, it's okay. To let go." You're shaking your head as you say it, and the tears have started: they're welling up in your eyes, and you know, you _know_ , there is no stopping them. Silently rolling down your cheeks, there is no doubt in your mind that your eyes are bloodshot at this very moment.

"If you do let go, I just want you to remember everything you'll be missing." You smile weakly. You can feel the salty droplets hanging off the edge of your nose.

"We were going to go to Europe, remember? Nothing but our backpacks and eachother." You remind him, although there is no point. He can't hear you.

"You and I were going to Yale. Remember you got that acceptance letter? We vowed to eachother that we would open them at the same time. I cried when I saw it." You rub your thumb along the bags of your eyes, collecting tears. "I hugged you and then we laughed because you're much taller than you were when we were kids. I wasn't wearing heels that day and you crouched down to reach me." You laugh fondly at the memory. Happy times, you and Farkle. Farkle and you.

"I'm going to have to go now, Farkle," you whisper to him. His body is lifeless. He doesn't even know you're there. You turn your head to look out the window, and you can see them there; the guy you used to like, and your bestfriend. She's resting her head on his shoulder, crying into the sleeve of his shirt. He's got his arms wrapped around her, his face hard, like he can't believe this could ever happen to _his_ bestfriend. He pulls her close.

"We could've been like them," you whisper into Farkle's ear, "Guess now, we'll never see."

You leave your seat, brushing away tears that are accumulating around your eyes again. You reach for his jacket that is swaying from that chair, lifting it up to look at it. You slip your arms through the sleeves: it's too big, but it's _his_.

You push open the door. Your bestfriend doesn't greet you. She doesn't say hello. She just tugs on the shirt of her boyfriend and asks, "Is he okay?"

"Coma," you find your voice despite not wanting to speak. Your bestfriend reaches for your arm, and pulls you closer. She envelops you in a hug, and you finally let yourself completely, truly break down and cry. She strokes your hair. "Everything's gonna be okay, Riles." I think – no – I _know_ she's right, because he's Farkle, and Farkle can't die.


	2. maya (before)

ii: maya (before)

It destroys you, not only to see him like this, but _her_. Your bestfriend for always. She's tormented; she thinks it's her burden - her _fault_ \- that he's like this. Crippled, having to be mended by surgeons and doctors alike. Breathing in imitation air rather than how Mother Nature intended.

And she's completely desperate. You've seen this once before: when she was shattered by the verses that were said to her online. You forever try to fix her everytime she falls, but how can you do it _this_ time? You can't magically wave a magic wand and everything will be alright. That Farkle will be okay and _the incident_ never happened.

But you wish you could. _You_ _soso_ _do_.

You had gotten the phone call at 10:27AM. Your boyfriend, the one you call a Huckleberry Ranger, is on the other end of the line. " _It's Farkle_ ," he had spoken a bare whisper on the other side, _"he's in the hospital_."

You pull the phone away from your ear and grimace: " _What happened_?" you had inquired.

" _Drunk driver. Hit him on his way home,_ " your Huckleberry says.

And you had hung up. You ran to the subway. You were exhilarated; the very thought of Farkle absent from your life makes you tremble. You hoped that the drunk driver gets hell. You threw profanity at the wind, and a familiar onyx black car pulls in front of you.

" _Lucas_ ," you breathed, and open the door without thought. You're livid, you want to _murder_ that driver. You want him _dead_. The world _needs_ Farkle. The world, however, doesn't need drunks. On the contrary.

When the car pulls up to the hospital, you didn't even stop to consider. You just thought that you needed to be there for Farkle, and for Riley.

 _God, Riley…_

She's already by his bedside. You can see her through the window, speaking to him. You don't know what she's saying, but tears are in her eyes. She's trying hard not to cry, and absolutely break down.

And then she's next to you, and you tell her everything's going to be alright: of course it will. You're tugging the shirtsleeve of your boyfriend, and you can see mascara stains running down his t-shirt. He doesn't care. He pulls you closer. Normally, you would resist any forms of PDA, but today is the exception.

 _Why is everything good taken away from you_?

Farkle was good; it was always taken for granted that he would be there. Now that he's not… it's… what's the word?

 _Hard_.

Everything has to be okay. It _has_ to be. You told Riley that everything's going to be okay, and you have to believe it.


	3. lucas (before)

iii: lucas (before)

The last thing you wanted was to receive a visit from your bestfriend's mother while you were at work to tell you that he was in an accident.

That's how they phrased it: _an accident_.

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus had been walking towards you. You have a part-time job at the local supermarket, so it was quite a shock for the people there, both customers and employees alike, to have such a high name there: the wife of Stuart Minkus, owner of Minkus International. You recognised her immediately from several visits to Farkle's house over the years. You had stopped scanning an old frumpy woman's items and watched as she spoke to your boss before turning to you.

" _Farkle's been in an accident,_ " she had said. Blood rushed to your ears, the words spiralling the surface of your thoughts.

" _What happened_?" At this point, the frumpy woman was tutting.

" _A man; he'd been out drinking last night and decided to drive…_ " she choked on her words as she tried to speak them. " _I've told your boss that you can get off work this morning._ "

You didn't even hesitate to dial your girlfriend's number. You tell her about the incident, and you can tell she's trying not to punch something.

You hear the sound of the call ending, and you know she's heading to the subway as fast as a bullet. You resolve to pick her up: that way she won't get in any trouble.

And you do. You drive her to the hospital to see him. Your best buddy. When you see him through the window, you feel like crying. You wrap your arms around your girlfriend, and squeeze her tight. She's crying into your shirt, and black stains are forming where her eyes reach.

You can't hear anything. Everything around you simply doesn't seem to exist. You think that your girlfriend is comforting her bestfriend. You're not sure. Maya and Riley head to the snack bar on the floor below. You stay. You sit by your bestfriend's bed side, hang your head and cry. _It's going to be alright_ , you tell yourself. _Farkle's tough, though he may not look like it,_ you repeat in your mind. You choose to believe it; you have to have hope.


	4. zay (before)

iv: zay (before)

You've only known him a year, yet you still sob like a baby when you hear the news that he was in an incident. The little guy; not so little anymore.

You didn't know until the day after, at school. It's when you show up all cheerful and meet your bestfriend, his girlfriend and her bestfriend. You can clearly see that they're depressed. Maya and Lucas were joined at the hip all day, and Riley didn't show up to two-thirds of her classes. You wonder what it could be, that's making such an impact on them: and then you realise. _Farkle wasn't there_.

" _Where's Farkle_?" you asked Riley as you dragged her to Gym class.

She looks up, and tears are welling in her eyes. You instantly regret asking the question. _"Didn't you hear?_ " she replies.

" _No one tells me anything…_ " you trail off.

" _Farkle was in an incident two yesterday,_ " she chokes, _"he's in the hospital and…"_ She stops, and you wrap your arms around her. You and Riley had never been overly close, apart from the occasional gathering at _Topanga's_. She hesitates, then gives in. Her knees weaken and tears wet his sleeve.

 _"_ _Oh my god…"_ you mutter, _"I'm sorry."_

 _"_ _It's okay,"_ she replies, " _Farkle's tough, he'll pull through."_

And you hope for her sake that she's right. If anything happens to Farkle, it'll crush her, you know that. You know that when Lucas initially moved to New York without telling you that you felt this horrible sinking feeling in your stomach, and he _died_ , well…

You don't know what you'd do. Perhaps you'd kill the person who was responsible for his death. You'd try, anyway. You could never hurt a soul; that's why you have Lucas in the first place.

" _Hope is the best thing right now_ ," you say.

" _I don't know how I can hope for anything…"_

 _Oh man…_

And you hold her closer. You don't let her go until she pulls away and whispers into your shoulder.

" _Thank you, Zay,"_


	5. farkle (before)

v: farkle (before)

You can see a coloured dot floating above you. It's a mahogany red, and it's traveling through a maze. It's the same pattern, repeated over and over. You feel light headed, like you need to faint. However, you can't. There's a tight feeling in your chest, wanting to burst out of you. Drowning, that's what it's like.

You think you know what this is: death. You're dying, you're absolutely sure of it. What else could this be?

You remember the incident vividly. It was 11:23PM, you were walking home from Riley's house. Riley lived a small distance away, so it was no great trial to you. You're walking along the streets of Greenwich Village, the breeze reaches underneath the fabric of your shirt collar. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

You look both ways at the crosswalk: it's an intersection, cars are busting to and fro'. You were totally sure there was no one coming. You're walking, left foot and right. Then you see it, the steel vehicle speeding, faster than it should. You dart, trying to escape the automobile. It moves as you do, and before you know it, there's impact. You're thrown eleven metres by the hit. You're on the ground. You hear the ambulance, and then…

It goes black. You can't remember anything beyond that. The dot's disappeared, and you know at that moment you're in Neverland now.


	6. lucas (after)

vi: lucas (after)

Twenty-three hours and six minutes. That's how long he was in agony. The seventh minute is the minute he died.

He was hit at 11:24PM on the Sunday. He died at 10:30PM on the Monday.

 _Twenty-three hours and six minutes_.

You finally broke down on the Tuesday after. It was 8:54AM, in your form class. Your teacher stood up, and pulled out an obviously well-rehearsed speech. You slung your head between your knees and cried as she spoke.

" _As some of you may know, on Sunday a sixteen-year-old boy had been hit by a vehicle while they were on their way home from a friend's house,"_ she paused, and breathed. _"Many of you in here may know him. His name was Farkle Minkus, and he was a beautiful soul. So talented, in so many different ways. Photographer, dancer. He will be greatly missed."_

You can see tears spilling from her eyes, and the skin around is rapidly turning red. She turns to hide her face from you and the rest of the class _._ Everyone misses Farkle. The dance kids miss having him in their classes, same with the photography kids. Especially you. You miss the little guy, _soso_ much. It hurts, there's a pain in your chest. A gaping hole left in the centre of your chest. _Agony_.

 _Agony._ It's something you rarely experience. Agony over the total loss of your bestfriend in the entire world. He's a better friend than Zay.

He _was_.

Your form teacher comes over to you, and passes you a tissue.

" _Lucas_ ," she said sweetly, " _If you want to go home, you can_."

And you did.


	7. riley (after)

vii: riley (after)

It hurts. You feel it clench in your chest, like a million speeding arrows shooting towards your heart. It presses against your ribs and makes you feel like locking yourself away. Squishing yourself into such a compact, that you just float away. You become atoms, and soar higher.

You don't go to school the next day. How could you? Everyone would be talking about it. You don't want to go through that misery. No one knows what happened, so there are bound to be theories about it.

You click the power button on the side of your phone, and the screen comes to light. Notifications overwhelm you, family members messaging you wishing their sincere condolences. You open up the Facebook app. You know you're going to regret doing this: you type his name into the search bar.

His profile pops up on the screen.

 ** _Farkle J. Minkus_**

 _Goes to John Quincy Adams Middle School (started 2014)_

 _Lives in Greenwich Village, New York_

 _From Philadelphia, Pennslyvania_

 _712 friends_

You scroll through his profile, his last post had been four days ago.

 ** _Farkle J. Minkus_** _updated his profile picture._

It was from Hallowe'en, when he painted his face to look like a skeleton.

The caption was " _everyone has their demons_."

You read the comments that people wrote, all of them basically the same.

 _"_ _R.I.P Farkle; you will be missed."_

 _"_ _I didn't know you very well, I only spoke to you once or twice but you seemed like a pretty cool guy. Rest in Peace."_

 _"_ _An angel gone too soon."_

You didn't know half these people were friends with Farkle. Goes to show, people are more interested in the dead then the living.

You once read in a book, that people are always trying to take the spotlight. No matter what the situation, they are always trying to take over the show.

That's why suddenly everyone here is his bestfriend. They want people to look at them, and feel sorry for them even though they barely _knew_ him.

You close your phone and instead get out of bed to retrieve your laptop. You pull the top open and open the _iMovie_ application. It takes forever to load, and you tap your fingers on the desk impatiently. When it finally does appear, you instantly tap the record button. You breathe, and try to let go.


	8. maya (after)

viii: maya (after)

You're trying not to punch the wall. Partly because it would break your hand; partly because then you'd be giving in to your anger. If you give into your anger, the man who hit him probably is going to end up dead.

You wake up at ten pm. You're not going to school. You can't. If someone talks to you, you'll probably have them by the neck in a heartbeat. You're trying not to cry with all your energy. You open Facebook.

The first thing to appear in your newsfeed is a video by your bestfriend, titled " _Farkle_ ".

 _Oh, Riles…_

You move your cursor over the play button and click. Riley comes into shot, red-faced and trying to force a smile. Even when she's completely crushed, she's smiling.

" _Recently, my…uh…"_ She stumbles: she's not sure what to classify her relationship with Farkle, you know that. " _Close friend passed away. And, I'm upset. I'm upset because everyone is trying to make it…seem… like they were his bestfriend, even when I have never seen them even look at Farkle, let alone have a conversation with him…"_ She stops, and breathes, _"Farkle was literally the most loyal person in the entire world. I've known him for almost ten years, and they've been some of the most amazing years of my life. It's the closest thing to love that I've ever experienced. And I may only be fifteen years old, but I know well enough that no one is as great as Farkle. And I don't think anyone ever will be again."_ She nods her head a few time and tries to keep her smile intact. " _My name is Riley Matthews, and Farkle J. Minkus was the best person in my life."_

You click the button in the corner that leads to the video on Youtube and scroll through the comments:

 ** _HRose_.xx:_** _"_ _Such a shame that your friend is gone. The way you described him; he's probably with the angels now."_

 ** _no1johnlockian:_** _"_ _My dad died a few years ago, and the same thing happened where people were acting like they were his bestfriend even though the hardly know him. Stay strong, kiddo! xx"_

 ** _Tronnor Lyfe:_** _"Sorry this happened..."_

There were one-thousand-and-twenty-one views already, in the space of the two hours since it had been published. You click the message box to leave a comment:

 ** _pancakehart:_** _"_ _everything will be alright, pumpkin… i got you."_


	9. zay (after)

ix: zay (after)

The entire tone of the room drops with every passing second. His picture is up on the wall, smiling down at you all. His eyes are glinting with happiness. You barely knew him, however, it still pains you that this guy went through _so_ much pain, so much _anguish_. The very idea that Maya, Riley and Lucas would never be the same again. It frightens you. _Tortures_ you. Riley's not in Rileytown anymore, you can see it in her eyes. Her hopes and dreams, _gone_.

Farkle is inside the coffin; the thought strikes you as you look around the room. He's _there_. He's exposed by the partly removed lid, wearing a simple suit.

There are so many people here. Relatives, friends of his parents. The Matthews. Everyone is here to pay their respects to him and his family.

And you're looming, almost stalking. Slumped in the back, not _truly_ belonging there. You've hidden yourself in the plethora of adults, hugging eachother, and crying over him. Lucas and Maya are sitting in the front row, entangled in the other. On any other day, you would be pulling out a fire extinguisher and firing at them in full blast. Farkle would subdue them.

Stuart Minkus stands up to the podium and speaks a well-rehearsed speech. He's not even reading it at this point – He had been continually going over it for the last month, cutting parts out and exchanging them for something else. He could never find the right words to say. "Two months ago, we lost our dear Farkle." He sighs, a lump visibly forming in her throat.

"We thank that everyone who ever cared and loved Farkle, for her brought care and love everywhere he went. He didn't care about your differences or who you were, because as long as you had a beating heart with love to give, he loved you." His voice broke mid-way through his sentence. Silence regained hold of the room. "Now, we have Riley Matthews."

Riley lifted her head when she heard her name being spoken, but didn't speak. She stepped up to the podium and swallowed. She makes eye contact with you, worry eminent in her eyes. You nod encouragingly, and she looks towards Lucas and Maya, both of whom had tears spilling from their eyes. Riley began to hum a song awkwardly into the microphone. You don't immediately recognise it, until she begins to form words.

Her voice cracked with every vowel that left her lips. It was obvious that she wasn't confident about performing in front of such a large audience. Farkle had been a bit of a performer in his life. It was a nice send out.

 _Only need the light when it's burning low,_

 _Only miss the sun when it starts to snow,_

 _Only know you love him when you let him go…_

She looked down and wiped her eyes with her thumb. Maya had already left her seat, and made her place next to her bestfriend.

"What are you doing?" you hear Riley ask.

"I got you." Maya replies with a shaky smile.

 _Only know you've been high when you're feeling low,_

 _Only hate the road when you're missing home,_

 _Only know you love him when you let him go._

They're harmonizing with eachother, like they've practiced it a million times before. It's beautiful. There's no instrumental music accompaniment, but its better this way. Everyone's entranced by their voices and how they mould together with high purpose.

You know then and there, that things will never be the same. But it's time to _let go_. Letting go is the best thing to do.

 _And you let him go…_


End file.
